For Johnny
by wonderkid
Summary: Ponyboy misses his best friend more than anyone could ever imagine. But most of all, he misses the words he saved for Johnny, and the words he never got around to saying. One-shot. Complete.


**A/N: Just a little something for Johnny/Ponyboy fans. I usually don't write sad stuff, but it had a sort of happy ending, right? Right? :'3 Review, review, review.**

Ponyboy shot up in bed, panting up a storm. He was sweating something fierce, and for a moment, he didn't know where he was. Reality didn't set in for a good minute or so, but when it did, he sighed heavily. Another nightmare. It had to have been the fourth or fifth night in a row, and frankly, he was getting sick of it. Johnny had been dead for nearly a whole year, and he thought he'd gotten over it, moved on. Clearly, though, he was wrong. Ponyboy didn't realize he was shaking until he felt a cool hand against his flushed skin.

"Pony... you alright?"

Ponyboy glanced behind him and nodded to his brother. Of course, he was lying, but he didn't want to worry Soda. He'd done enough of that already. It wasn't unusual for Ponyboy to wake up in the middle of the night like this, sweating and breathing rough. He'd been doing it for the last... well, he couldn't even remember how long, ever since his parents died. Both of his brothers were used to his nightmares, but they didn't know the extent of it. They didn't know how mentally draining they were to the youngest Curtis brother. They didn't know how the dreams had changed.

Sodapop watched Ponyboy for a minute, then rubbed his arm soothingly, "You sure, Ponyboy?"

His nerves were still a bit wired, but Ponyboy nodded and threw the covers off his legs. There wasn't any way he was going to get back to sleep after that nightmare; he never did, usually. His best bet would be to go downstairs and have a long smoke. Maybe that would calm him down.

Ponyboy slipped into a pair of jeans, and grabbed a lighter off his bedside table. With a small smile to his brother, he said, "I won't be up too long," and headed out into the living room. He took a seat on the worn couch, and pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket. Pony was a pretty hefty smoker to begin with, but lately, he had a cigarette between his teeth all the time. It seemed to be the only thing that could really calm his nerves, settle him down. It even got to the point where Darry was limiting his cigarette usage to a pack a day, and if Pony wanted one, he'd have to ask. He always kept a secret pack with him, though, for when he was denied his nicotine.

He took a long drag and blew the smoke up into the air. He could already feel himself calming down a bit, but a bit wasn't enough. Ponyboy thought about his dream, the one he'd been having over and over, every night. It took him back to the burn ward at the hospital where a dying Johnny Cade lay in his bed, burned all over. It took him back to the memories of Johnny's funeral, how the whole gang had been there. He remembered how Johnny's drunk of a mother had made a scene and had to be escorted out, Darry and Steve grabbing on to either of her arms. Ponyboy could easily say he hated Johnny Cade's parents, and hoped one day, they got what they deserved.

Ponyboy picked at the loose threads on the couch, and felt tears welling in his eyes. He missed Johnny more than anything. He missed his best friend more than anyone could ever fathom, and it was killing him inside. What he wouldn't do to see Johnny again, to tell him everything Ponyboy had ever meant to say... what he wouldn't do...

He closed his eyes tight, mostly to keep the tears in, and thought about Johnny. Ponyboy thought about the church, and the long days he spent there with Johnny. He thought about all the things he wanted to tell his best friend while they were stuck there, all the things he'd been afraid to say. But now, the fear seemed pointless. He wished he would have just spit out the words he'd meant to say, but he didn't. And now he regretted it.

Pony put out his cigarette, and without hesitation, lit up another one. He rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. What would life be like if Johnny were here? Would it be better? Would he have told Johnny all those things that had been buried inside him? Ponyboy didn't know, and there was no sure way to tell...

Before he knew it, it was dawn. Ponyboy rubbed his eyes and wondered if he'd fallen asleep. His cigarette hung between his fingers over the ashtray, ash piled up beneath it. He figured maybe he had, or maybe he'd just zoned out. He put out the smoke and walked into the kitchen.

First one awake makes breakfast, and the other two do the dishes. It was a rule, and since Ponyboy was awake, he grabbed a handful of eggs and a frying pan, and started making breakfast for his brothers. The smell of the cooking woke the other two up, and after a while, the other Curtis brothers moseyed into the kitchen. Darry slung with arm around Ponyboy sympathetically, and Pony figured Soda told him about early this morning.

"You gonna be okay, little buddy?"

Ponyboy blinked back tears and nodded, "Just... missin' Johnny."

Sodapop walked up behind them and put a hand on Ponyboy's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"We all miss Johnny, Pony," he said in a soothing tone, "but it's gonna be okay. He wouldn't want you to be sad." And Ponyboy knew his brother was right. Johnny wouldn't want him to be sad. So, he would try his best not to be.

Darry cleared his throat and pulled a crying Ponyboy into a hug, rubbing his back, "We'll go see him, today, okay, Pony? We'll go see him..."

Ponyboy thanked his brothers and brushed the tears out of his eyes. Somehow, he knew he'd be okay, but Johnny wanted him to be okay. He'd be okay for Johnny. For Johnny...


End file.
